


A Drop of Trillium Potion

by Broken_irises



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel if you squint - Freeform, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_irises/pseuds/Broken_irises
Summary: Dean is back from Hell and he's his usual emotion-suppressing self. While trying to distract Dean with a hunting trip, the Winchesters run into a young hunter named Alex who has a surprisingly vast knowledge of magic and witchcraft. With her own agenda in mind, Alex decides to help the Winchesters find out what pulled Dean out of Hell. Will she be able to keep up with the capricious and  dangerous lifestyle of the Winchesters?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. I Hate Witches

The sun was bearing down on dry grassy fields. Along a sea of farmland, a sleek car burned its tires on the hot asphalt as it sped away. The driver was a tall man with broad shoulders and spiky hair. His face wore a sort of permanently troubled expression. In the passenger seat was an even taller man, shuffling through a stack of papers that lay on his lap.

Sam Winchester wanted nothing more than to hug his brother and never let go. A year of thinking Dean was dead had put things, like embarrassment, in perspective. He wanted to come clean about 20 years worth of suppressed emotion. Instead, he was on his way to a murder scene to try and distract Dean from whatever had hauled his ass out of Hell.

Sam scanned the newspaper article for clues. Man vomiting blood, nails in food... _sounds like witchcraft._

"I think it might be a witch" Sam shared the conclusion he had arrived on.

"What?" Dean asked, looking over at Sam. He looked unfocused.

"I said I think this case involves a witch" Sam repeated. Dean nodded and made a _got it_ gesture at Sam, promptly returning to his clearly upsetting thoughts. Sam's heart sank.

"Dean, we don't have to take cases right now. There's other hunters in that area. Bobby's already contacted someone. We can just find a hotel and take it easy for the night. This is probably really hard on you, I mean you just came back from the dead...from _hell_ and-"

"Sam?" Dean stopped Sam in the middle of his charade.

"Hmm?"

"Babbling."

"Right. Sorry."

And so Sam resumed pretending to do research. He shuffled and reshuffled his papers and the Winchester boys, once again, sped towards danger to save the life of an innocent at the risk of their own.


	2. Who the hell are you?

After getting back from Hell, Dean had spent countless days fucking anything with legs. He was willing to do just about anything to forget the horrors he witnessed in the damned place. Today was no different.

The boys had made their way to a local bar looking for a man who had witnessed the victim's death. After finding the man passed out in the men's bathroom, they decided to confront him the following day and take the night off. Sam suggested heading to their motel and getting rest but Dean decided he wanted to stay and numb his emotions with some booze. Sam reluctantly agreed and got himself a beer.

In the few minutes it took Sam to order and pay for his drink, Dean had already worked his way through two glasses of neat whisky. He felt the amber liquid burn his throat and quiet his mind. His eyes scanned through the crowd for another piece of ass to get him through the night. His gaze fell on a pretty face across the bar and he pushed through the crowd to get to her, ignoring Sam's concerned whining about "getting rest" and "avoiding STDs".

When Dean was close enough, he slid his arm around the woman's waist. Spinning her to the music, he jerked her towards himself; her ass flush against his crotch. She giggled.

"What's your name sweetheart?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she replied.

Dean liked them easy and indifferent. That way he didn't have to feel guilty about asking them to leave in the morning. More often than not, they were gone before he even woke up.

The woman turned around to face Dean. "Let's get out of here." she said and Dean followed her out of the bar, waving a quick goodbye to a disgruntled Sam.

Lips clashed, hands roamed and Dean, once more, found himself in a dark alley making out with a stranger. He was good at this and every moan he drew out of his fleeting date led him farther away from facing the rude mess that was his life. He licked his way into the woman's mouth as her hands fumbled at his belt.

He was about to give her a hand with his pants when suddenly, the woman gasped and went limp. Her eyes went wide, her breathing faltered. Her body sagged in his arms and he looked up to see a shining blade laden with crimson. Instinctively, he pulled out his gun and aimed it directly at the head of his attacker and almost fired a bullet through their skull. Almost.

What stopped him was a firm "Hold on!" from Sam who had appeared in the alleyway behind the attacker. He too had his gun cautiously aimed.

Dean looked at Sam incredulously, shaking his head to clear the haze from his mind. _Come on brain. Give me the thoughts when I need them._ The fog was clearing and Dean finally looked at the attacker.

She stood steady and calm. Her hands were up in surrender and her eyes were closed; her expression resigned, as if she was ready to die if Dean pulled the trigger. She was dressed in tattered jeans and a tank top. The remnants of a black jacket hung from her raised arms.

"Talk." Dean said and her eyes snapped open.

"My name is Alex. I'm a hunter. This woman here was about to kill you."

Brown eyes stared back at Dean. For a moment, Dean found himself lost in her piercing gaze.

"How did you find her?" Sam asked, slowly lowering his weapon.

"I followed her." Alex responded. "Hey, can you lower your gun too so that I can remove that little gift pouch you got from your friend here?"

Dean lowered his gun and frantically searched through his jacket for the hex bag, eventually giving up and whipping his jacket off his body and onto the ground. Alex looked mildly amused at the sight of a grown man hurriedly stripping in a dark alley.

Sam approached them and squatted next to the dead witch to retrieve the knife from her back.

"So you're a hunter, huh? We are too. Never seen you around." Sam commented examining the bloodied weapon. "Did Bobby send you?"

"Nah Bobby doesn't call me. He doesn't trust me with myself. Something about being too young. Hah!" Alex chuckled to herself. "Saved your ass though." She pointed at Dean.

"Yeah thanks for that." Dean said. Something about this girl felt weird. After years of dealing with a whole lot of weird, Dean could tell when he was around something supernatural. This so-called hunter stank of power. Not only that, but she had showed up out of nowhere to save Dean; much like what had happened when he woke up in a pine box. A shared look with Sam confirmed that his brother felt the same way about her.

"You're hurt" Dean pointed at a large gash on her arm.

"A+ for observational skills." She smirked.

"Ha. Hilarious." said Dean mirthlessly. "That needs stitches. My name's Dean, this is my brother Sam. We tend to break a lot of skin. Let us help you."

"No thanks, I have supplies. I'll be fine." she was bluffing. She didn't have supplies. The witch-bitch had burnt her bag: bandages, booze and all.

"We insist." Sam said, putting on his most personable expression. Alex's face morphed into a concerned scowl. Reluctantly, she agreed to let the boys help her.

When they reached the motel room, Sam quietly retrieved their first aid kit while Dean just sat across Alex, pointedly staring at her. Alex was starting to regret her decision to come to the motel. Out of habit, she reached for the knife in her back pocket. _Damn it!_ She realized that she never took her knife back from Sam.

Sam, now equipped with a needle, gauze and other supplies, sat down next to Alex on the motel bed. He warned her that the stitching process would hurt and she nodded, silently giving consent. A small hiss left her lips when Sam pressed alcohol into her wound. As he cleaned the dried blood off her cut, he noticed an anti possession tattoo on the back of her neck, but it looked different from the ones him and Dean had. Alex's was more intricate. A small string of tattooed words spiraled down her back; most of them were obscured by her clothes. Sam tried to gauge the language but it was nothing he'd ever seen before.

"If Bobby didn't call you, how did you know about this case?" Dean asked. On hearing his question, Alex looked up at Dean and away from Sam who was staring at her all broody and weird.

"I specialize in witch hunting. Personal vendetta" she said.

Dean could understand that. He had spent much of his life trying to avenge his mother, and then his father, then his brother. And now he was back on Earth after decades spent in- well, he tried not to think about that.

"You track 'em down huh. I get that. Was it family or a friend?" He pried for more information.

"Not your business." Alex responded promptly. She clenched her jaw shut as Sam sewed her cut. Dean was almost impressed at her pain tolerance. Even Sam whined like bitch while getting stitches. But that emotion passed quickly and the persistent odd feeling was back in Dean's mind.

Once Sam was done with Alex's cut, he cleaned off the remaining scrapes on her arm. When his hand accidentally brushed her ribs, she winced and drew back.

"You good?" he asked, reaching for her again but she abruptly stood up.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's not broken, it's bruised. The witch bitch smashed me into a wall." she said impatiently. She started towards the motel door and the boys both stood up to stop her.

"Listen, thanks for the first aid, but why am I really here?" she asked. A cautious look plaguing her soft face. "You didn't return my only weapon and brought me here to stitch up a small cut and now you're both acting like I'm not allowed to leave, so what the fuck is up?"

"Alex-" Same started but Dean cut him off.

"There's something off about you, and like you said, I'm the guy with the gun. Sit. Down." he stated.

"Dean, we brought her here on a whim, we can't keep her hostage." Sam argued.

"The hell we can't! Watch me." Dean pulled out his gun and pointed it at a bewildered looking Alex. "Who are you?"

"Dean, seriously, we can't-" Sam began but was once again cut off mid-sentence.

"I didn't pull you out of Hell."


	3. Marked

"I didn't pull you out of Hell." she said and Dean's stance faltered for a second.

"Care to elaborate?" Dean asked, but it didn't come out like a question. Sam stood next to Dean; gun in hand. Alex sighed.

"Okay. I followed the witch. That part is true. I followed her because she was tracking you down to kill you. Trust me. I'm not the bad guy." she said.

"Little hard to do that after we just caught you in a lie" Dean glowered.

"Listen, there's been a LOT of talk about you recently. Among the monsters, witches, demons, hunters-you name it." Alex explained. "I caught wind that you're branded by something divine, and I needed to see it in person."

Sam was feeling really confused now. Apparently Dean was just as baffled and Sam could see his alcohol-addled brain try to process everything. The red handprint on Dean's arm only came up in front of Bobby and he would never share this information in the hunter circles. Especially not after his little summoning experiment in the shed failed. Pamela's accident must have gotten word out.

"So what you're religious, is that it?" Dean asked. "See something god-touched?"

  
Alex scoffed. "You really hold yourself on a pedestal, don't you?" Dean raised his eyebrows in response.

"You're not marked by God. You're marked by an Angel." she stated simply. This got Dean to break out in an incredulous laugh. Even Sam looked amused.

"Alex, you're really not making sense. Angels aren't real" Sam interjected through Dean's loud guffaws. Both men still had guns pointed towards their captive and she was getting tired of staring down the barrel. She waited for Dean to quiet down before making a simple request.

"I need to see the mark. I can summon the creature that made it" she said.

"We've tried already. All the summoning spells. They don't work." Sam replied. Bobby had turned that shed into a magical monstrosity. They'd meticulously chalked and painted countless spells onto every surface of the shed and nothing had worked.

"I can make it work. Trust me. I kill witches for a living. I know magic." Alex was getting impatient. They were losing valuable time. She'd spent years tracking down the ridiculous creature. This was a big fish and she was not about to let it slip away.

The Winchester boys stared at each other in silent conversation and after what felt like many hours, they slowly lowered their guns.

"We'll work with you on one condition." Dean said, holstering his weapon. "Tell us how you know about the mark. And no more lies."

With a resigned sigh, Alex nodded. Trying not to rip out her stitches, she rolled up her tank top to reveal a faded, red handprint on the side of her torso.


	4. Language of the Divine

Dean and Bobby were perched on a table watching Alex while Sam was off doing god knows what.

They were back in the painted up shed for trial number two of summoning the creature. The two men watched with equal parts of fascination and suspicion as Alex made subtle changes to symbols. She quietly muttered words in strange tongues as she drew and erased and redrew patterns on the wood and soil.

Once she felt satisfied with her work, she took a deep breath and looked up at them.

"It's time." she said.

"You have a spell?" Bobby asked. Alex nodded and showed him the words she had scribbled on a piece of paper. Bobby squinted at it as Dean put down the blade he was sharpening.

"What in the hell is this? I don't recognize the language." he said.

"It's Enochian. Language of the divine." Alex replied. Dean eyed her and the paper with the spell.

"Well, it's a hell of an art project. You sure it'll work?" he asked.

"One way to find out," said Alex. "Get armed. It's time to ring the dinner bell." she squared her shoulders. Dean nodded.

"I need to touch the mark, Dean." she said. His name sounded strange in her mouth. She looked expectantly at him. Dean shuffled forward and lifted his shirt. Her fingers were shaking as they met his scarred skin.

For the first time Dean noticed how scared she was. The whole time he'd been around her, he was busy making sure she didn't kill them. Now that he had (temporarily) cleared her motives, he saw her for what she was- a lonely girl putting on a very brave face.

"Hey.." he whispered and two expectant brown eyes looked up at him. "We're going to be okay," he assured her.

"You don't know that Dean" she responded, her voice laden with fear and resignation. "But thank you."

And with that, she closed her eyes in determination and began chanting.

"Ol aldon yls ds oln oi mark"

The roof of the barn began shaking, there were strong gusts of wind like a storm coming. Suddenly the lights in the shed sparked out. Dean and Bobby drew their weapons but Alex continued chanting.

"Ol aldon yls ds oln oi mark. Castiel, ol umd yls!"

The barn door slid open and Dean shoved Alex behind his back. Together with Bobby, he shot at the creature walking through. It looked like- well, it looked like a man.

A man who was unaffected by the bullets being rained down upon him. Alex ducked behind Dean looking for Sam's demon blade. When the two men ran out of bullets and the angel was within range, Alex pushed past Dean and planted the knife neatly in the angel's chest.

Unfortunately, it didn't work and the angel simply pulled out the blade and dropped it with a clang on the ground. Bobby tried attacking it with an iron rod but the angel pressed two fingers to his head and he collapsed beside the useless weapons.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, trying to push Alex behind him again. But she wasn't having it.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." the angel stated.

"I figured as much. _What_ are you?!" Dean spit.

"He's Castiel." Alex said. The angel's eyes shifted from Dean to Alex. "Angel of the lord."

"Is that contempt I hear in your voice?" Castiel asked, slowly approaching her.

Alex stood her ground. "Why? Why would an angel care to save me? I understand why you saved him- why me?"

"Good things do happen."

"Not in my experience." Alex said. Dean could hear how broken she sounded.

Castiel squinted at her like he was reading her mind.

"What's the matter?" he whispered. "You don't think you deserve to be saved?" Alex looked extremely uncomfortable and Dean needed to get that thing away from her.

"Hey Castiel" he called. "I know Ms. Magic Hands over there believes you're an angel but I'm still pretty convinced you're not. You burned out that poor woman's eyes!"

Castiel sighed and shook his head. "I told her not to look upon my true visage. It can be overwhelming."

"And what visage are you in now? Holy tax accountant?" Dean asked.

"That's your problem Dean. You lack faith." Castiel closed his eyes and the storm responded with an explosive spark of lightning.

Alex and Dean shuffled away from Castiel as a giant shadow emerged behind him shaped like a pair of beautiful divine wings. As the thunder died down, Dean spoke once again.

"Why am I alive Castiel?" he asked. Castiel approached Dean, getting uncomfortably close to his face.

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you"

And with those ominous words, the angel disappeared.


	5. All This Angel Crap

Dean paced in Bobby’s kitchen discussing the events in the barn with Sam, who looked more and more excited by the minute. 

“Dean, this is great!” he exclaimed, “I mean angels?” Sam’s eyes were sparkling but Dean seemed unconvinced. 

“Umm, wrong. Not great. I was not groped by a fucking angel, okay?” Dean threw up his hands in frustration. “Maybe it was a demon! Demons lie all the time right?” He was grasping at straws now. Sam gave him a deadpanned look.

“A demon that was immune to holy water and salt rounds and Ruby’s Lilith-scaring knife? I mean come on, Dean, what’s it going to take!”

“I don’t know something with a little less pixie dust on it!”

Alex rolled her eyes and Winchester boys continued to argue. She was sitting in Bobby’s study while he pored over a book from her collection. Over the years, she had amassed a sizable chunk of all the literature on angels. This book showed an angel pulling a human from hell. Bobby called out to the arguing knuckleheads to look.

Dean stared at the image in the book incredulously and then slowly looked up at Alex. She’d been really shifty since the altercation with Castiel- quiet and jumpy. And then she’d showed up with over a dozen books on angels; that was suspicious at best. 

“You,” he said, pointing at Alex. “You’re the one who started all this angel crap. You really believe it? What are we supposed to believe in God now too?”

Alex was about to give him a piece of her mind when Sam interrupted her.

“Guys, this is good news.” he looked so happy, it made Alex want to gag. “For once, it’s not another round of demon crap. Maybe you were saved by one of the good guys!” He smiled at his brother giddily. Alex couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Fuck- stop. Both of you.” you sighed. “Dean, I don’t know about the big G-O-D, but angels? They exist. You met one, end of story.” Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pacing. Alex continued, “Sam- angels are not the good guys. They- they’re fucking dicks.”  
Sam narrowed his eyes. “How would you know? I thought this was the first time you saw one.” He’d finally caught her in a moment of surprise. “You gonna tell us about that mark now?”

Alex had avoided talking about her mark for a while. She was surprised the boys had let it slide for so long. Everytime anyone brought it up, she would excuse herself or change the topic and everyone was so caught up in Dean and Castiel that they almost forgot about her stupid mark. Almost. 

“Well?” Sam pressed. Bobby looked at her expectantly. Even Dean stopped pacing and was watching her intently. There was no way she was getting out of it this time.  
Alex squirmed uncomfortably. If Bobby and the Winchesters were so bamboozled by the idea of angels, there was no way they were ready for her fucked up origin story. So she spun them a more believable version:

“Okay, I’ll talk.” she said. “5 years ago, I woke up in the middle of the woods in Buffalo, New York. I had no money, food, clothes or memories of my life before I woke up. All I had was this goddamn mark and the tattoos on my body. Over time I found out I was good at magic. Really good I met a girl- a witch.” her eyes glistened with unshed tears and Dean felt a sharp pang in his heart. He knew where this was going. 

“Her name was Alice. She was my friend. She tried to help me figure out who I was, what my mark meant, using this old book. A coven of witches tried to steal it from her and killed her in the process. So I killed them.”

Dean could see the determination in her eyes. He’d seen that before in someone else- a 21 year old boy who watched his girlfriend burn. 

Sam regarded Alex carefully and turned to look at Dean. After years of being bound and gagged on hunts, the Winchesters had figured out how to communicate through brief glances. Dean could tell that Sam believed Alex. He decided he did too, but he still had a lot of questions.

“How is this related to the angels?” Dean asked her. She nodded, having already anticipated his question.

“After I killed that coven, I couldn’t stop. It was like...like bloodlust in my veins.” Alex stared at the ground, violent memories clouding her vision. Sam knew what that felt like. He was not looking forward to telling Dean about his extracurricular activities with Ruby.  
“During my witch killing rampage, I ran into Bobby.” she continued. “He helped me track down a really old psychic witch. She was...a specialist.”

Bobby looked pissed. “You told me she was the one who killed your friend.” Alex looked at him sheepishly.

“Sorry Bobby but she was my best shot at finding out the truth about myself.” Bobby shook his head and Alex shrugged.

“She told me about angels. She knew her shit, helped me write a summoning spell.” Alex continued.

“Then why’d ya gank her?” Bobby asked.

“She wanted the spell for herself but she couldn’t do it without the mark. So she tried to flay me alive.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Sam looked horrified.

“You used the spell.” Dean guessed. “That’s how you knew you could summon Castiel. You tried the spell and it worked didn’t it?”

Alex nodded. She was toying with the hem of her shirt which sported tiny rips all over; a sign of her fidgeting habit. Dean wondered why he kept noticing silly things about Alex. How did it matter if she ripped her clothes into shreds? There were more important things to focus on, but he found himself staring at the way she nervously chewed on her bottom lip. Without thinking it through he reached down to free her lip from it’s toothy prison. Thankfully, unlike him, everyone else (including Alex) was too distracted to have noticed the unwarranted gesture.

Alex turned away from her expectant audience and weighed the consequences of how much she would reveal. Furrowing her brows, she decided bare minimum was the way to go.

“The spell summoned a high order angel. He never told me his name, but I heard his true voice.” she continued her story, absently staring at jostling dust particles in the sunshine. 

“He asked me some bizzaro questions about my past and when I couldn’t answer him, he shoved me in a boundless void.” she turned to face the Winchesters, tears staining her face. 

"What a dick." Dean mused.

Alex shook her head in defeat. “I never knew how painful and bewildering nothingness could be until I was put in there but I would-I couldn’t tell him anything about my past. So, there I stayed...for months, years...until one day I woke up in a pine box in a Buffalo cemetery once more. This time with intact memories.”

She sniffled and used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her face. Sam’s heavy hand landed on her shoulder and it felt strangely comforting. She looked up to see him smiling sadly at her.

“I’m sorry you went through that. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” He whispered hoping to calm her down. He always got uncomfortable around pretty crying girls.

Alex clutched her ripped shirt sleeves into her fists, “We have to.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this. I'll try to be consistent! Please leave feedback <3


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